Whiney Behiney (You've been warned!)

Today is my ex’s birthday. It’s funny b/c he used to remember all the dates; when we first met, the date we became bf/gf, when we decided, for all intensive purposes, that we'd moved in together. I used to tease him b/c I would never remember shit like that. Not that it didn’t mean anything to me, just that I sometimes got the months confused, or was off by a day or two. And now, two years later, I can’t seem to forget. So I wanted some affirmation. I wanted to know that despite the pain that relationship can bring, that they’re worth it all. I rented one of my favorite movies “Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind”. And this will mark the 2nd hr. of sporadic crying jags. Sighhhh…

I just…I just miss sharing my life with someone. I miss all those silly, stupid things two people who love each do together. Shawn and I were always quite modest when it came to bodily functions. We weren’t a couple who would pass gas, or even burp in front of one another. And sometimes, when we’d lie together I’d put my head on his bare shoulder, like I'd guess most couples do when they lie together. Then I'd make farting noises on his chest and arms, and we’d name each after characters or celebrities that would toot like that. Or he'd go "Do an elephant!" and I'd try my best to come up w/one that might match. We would just laugh and laugh. And one time I remember we were sitting on the bed talking, and Rootie was sititng b/w us. Suddenly she sneezed in his direction, and he did a back tumble like her little sneeze blew him clean off the bed. That still makes me laugh. And he’d always “steal” these little pecks, right when I wasn’t expecting them, then draw back and wiggle his head back and forth like he was proud that he snuck in a kiss while I was unaware. Just, stupid, stupid little shit. I miss it. I don’t even really feel human sometimes. Humans share themselves, they touch one another, they hold each together. I just go to work, worry about money, and get drunk. That’s not living.

I feel so confused. On one hand, I know that I’m always going to miss Shawn b/c I love him. Don’t get me wrong, Shawn and I had a FUCKED UP relationship. I could never have had children with him, and my family would not accept him. Not that he was bad, there was just this huge grey area between who he wanted to be and who he was, and all the lies he had to tell to make us both believe he was the person that he wanted to be was never going to change the reality of who he was. On the other hand, I know I wouldn’t miss him this much if I could just find someone else, but that’s easier said than done. He officially moved out in Jan ’06, and here it's coming up on Jan ’08. Why am I still here, crying about this like it just happened? Sometimes I feel like I’m still holding the fear of being hurt in front of me, and other times I tell myself the truth: I just haven’t found anyone…and no one has found me.

Questions For The Bored

1. Who would you want to be tied to for 24 hours?
This is a total cop out, but it’s true: Rootie. And even that is pushing it.

2. Who do you blame for your mood today?
Blame? Myself, of course.

3. Have you ever seen a dead body?
In the wild, no, but I've been to a few funerals.

4. What should we do with stupid people?
I’d need more specifics as to what “stupid” is defined as. I do have a hard time when I see ignorant people raising children, so we should take them all to get sterilized. (That's a joke.)

5. How long do you think you will live?
FOR-EV-ER!

6. What was the first thing you did this morning?
Checked out Rootie to make sure was sleeping peacefully.

7. The color of carpet in your bedroom?
Cheap berber

8. Who was the last person you went to eat with?
About 15 coworkers at Mamacitas. Every moment was GRUELING! Having to "act nice" is just not something in which I excel.

10. Are you spoiled?
Most definitely

11. Do you drink lots of water?
No, not “lots”, but I drink my fair share.

12. What toothpaste do you use?
Colgate! (Pronouced: cole-gah-tey)

13. How do you vent your anger?
Music, writing, and in rare instances, I’ll trash a room.

14. The last compliment you received?
“You complete me.” HA HA! I dunno….someone recently told me I have a firm handshake. ??

15. What are you doing this weekend?
I'm going to watch the latest Resident Evil movie, then tan by the pool Sunday morning.

16. When was the last time you threw up?
Last year’s Halloween party. I puked up red wine, which was a first, and I sincerely hope it will be a last. It wasn't the drinking that did it; I had no idea that if I drink wine, smoke a bunch of pot, then try to drink more wine, that my system will automatically go into reverse. Rookie mistake (made at the age of 30).

17. What theme does your room have?
I like to call it “Roman Orgy-Red Light Fantasy”. HA HA!
I got a couple of paintings on the wall, but that’s about it.

18. When was the last time you were at a party?
My friend Katie had a game night in Austin wherein not one game was played. I still had fun.

20. Are you a mama's child or a daddy's child?
Depends on the day.

21. Would you ever join the military?
I can’t now…too old.

22. The last website you visited?
Yahoo News

23. Who was the last person you took a picture with?
Uhhh…lately I’ve been taking pics of myself. Ahem. NEXT QUESTION!

24. How gay are you?
Huh? Happy/gay or homosexual gay? I’m 75% happy gay and 15% homosexual gay. I could do boobie stuff, but not sure sure I would enjoy "swabbing luna".

25. Last person you went to the movies with?
I like to watch movies by myself, but I did see one w/Katie waaaay back in March.

26. What did you do/will you do for your birthday this year?
Not sure yet. Weep in a dark room?

27. Number of layers on your bed?
Layers? Of stuff? Rootie’s blanket, some kibble and the remote. Does that constitute one layer?

28. Is anything alive in your room?
Yes

29. Today, would you rather go back a week or go forward a week?
Forward a week. Not looking forward to a meeting w/bigwigs this Friday. I don’t want to say anything stupid, which means I’ll probably just stay quiet, thereby looking stupid. I just can’t win.

30. What are you looking forward to right now?
RENFEST!

31. Honestly, what color is your underwear?
Today it’s silver.

32. Honestly, whats on your mind right now?
Nothing, that’s why I do these bullshit questionnaires; they render my mind completely blank.

33. Honestly, what are you doing right now?
Uhhh- typing on my keyboard. No..honestly, I am.

34. Honestly, what did you do today?
Reading through a bunch of files to figure out what the hell this promotion is going to be about.

36. Honestly, have you done something bad today?
Well, I made a fool out of myself to one of the new assistants. Damn, who the hell named her AMPARO? What kind of name IS that? (I called her campari, which if you google, is COMPLETELY different.)

37. Honestly, do you watch disney channel?
Yup. I love the movie “Holes” and “Sky High”, and the cartoon “The Proud Family”, which are all on the Disney Channel.

38. Honestly, are you jealous of someone right now?
Yes, Rootie is home, asleep. Wish I was.

39. Honestly, what makes you happy most of the time?
Beer

40. Honestly, do you bite your nails?
No, but I sometimes chew on the skin around my nails if I’m REALLY nervous (but only if my hands are newly washed)

41. Honestly, what is your mood right now?
I’m a’right.

43. Honestly, do you want to see someone this very minute?
Yes. Had dreams about my Papo last night-AGAIN! He wasn't there, but I got a check in the mail for $300 which was something he left for me. ??

44. Honestly, do you have a deep dark secret?
No one is hidden under the floorboards at my house or anything, but there are a few things I’d like to keep under my hat.

45. Honestly, do you love someone right now?
Of course.

46. Honestly, do you want a hug from someone right now?
Yes, a hug would be awesome right about now. I'll just have to settle for booze. Again.

47. Honestly, are you loyal?
Yes

48. Honestly, are you in denial?
About many things, I’m sure.

49. Honestly, wouldn't you rather be having sex right now?
What am I, an idiot? Hell yes I’d rather be having sex right now!

50. Honestly, who is your best friend?
I got over that in middle school; I have many wonderful friends who are very dear to me, not just one bff.

51. Honestly, have you ever consumed alcohol?
Honestly- never while sleeping.

52. Honestly, do you like someone?
Like, yes. “In like”, no.

53. Honestly, does anyone like you?
Honestly, how could you not? HA HA!

54. Honestly, is it going anywhere with them?
Nope.

When Orgasms Go Wrong

This weekend I saw a snippet of “When Harry Met Sally”, and that whole fake orgasm scene has a whole new connotation. I always told myself that I would not be that girl who fakes it, no matter what. It was probably the same time I read Erica Jong’s “Fear of Flying” when I decided that if I was going to partake of sex, I would not merely be a vessel through which someone else got off. I was going to be honest with my partner and myself, and not ever, ever fake an orgasm. I never had a problem w/this when I was w/the ex. In the 4 and a half years we were together I could count on my right hand the number of times I faked it. As a matter of fact, I believe that would only be twice, and on both occasions it was a case of wanting to be there for my man when all I really wanted to do was go to sleep. But sometimes in relationships you have to put your partner’s needs ahead of your own, and I don’t have a problem with that decision.

Fast forward… I was out drinking w/my good friend Eric, who I’d first met many years ago at A&M. We get along really well, make each other laugh, and just have a good time in general when we’re together. He was also gracious enough to lend me his couch when I was working at the IRS and was having a hard time staying awake during that last leg of the trip (San Marcos to Seguin). Though logic, and Penthouse Forum, would dictate that during one of the handful of times I stayed the night at his house we would have fooled around, that was not the case; as with most circumstances of our friendship, this was completely unplanned. One day I asked him if he wanted to meet me at a bar after work. He accepted. 5 hours and many pitchers later, we’re mugging down by JC Kellam, and I follow him to his house.

The funny thing about the way I feel about Eric is that he holds so many of the attributes I am looking for in a man. No really, one day I even listed them out and even I was amazed. But when it comes to physical attraction, our chemistry doesn’t quite mesh like man and woman, more like brother and sister. OK, not THAT bad...but at least cousins. And the weirdest thing is that I am attracted to him, I have fantasized about him, and we have fun flirting and the like when we do go out. We didn’t have intercourse but we did engage in certain oral exploits, and yes, that night I faked it. Twice. I just wasn’t “feeling” it, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings! I mean, I was basically at the controls, so I can’t even say that his prowess was lacking (much…) but after a few minutes when I realized it just wasn’t going to yield any payoff for me, I faked it, found out he was one of those “no baby, you’re going to REMEMBER this” kind of guys who wanted to go for 2, so I faked it again, then concentrated on him.

I might also add that I was summarily DUMPED afterwards; I thought we were better friends than all that, and even though we felt that wasn’t the direction we wanted our friendship to take, we could have at least remained friends. Unfortunately this was not the case, so young Eric is off my Christmas card list, and I learned a lesson about fooling around with boys when you don’t have a clear idea of what your relationship is, which is probably something I should’ve learned in high school. I’m a late bloomer, what can I say? Anyway, I have recently learned that he has a girlfriend, and good for him! Hopefully he’ll get her home fires burning. (Sorry, couldn’t help myself! I’m a woman scorned!) :-)

This now brings me to the latest opportunity which is balancing on the edge of a knife, and threatenting to fall into the category of “mistake”. My longtime friend Juan and I are planning on going to Renfest the first weekend in November. Right now that means we’re getting a room in Navasota, and though it’s going to have two queen sized beds, I am a bit nervous about how this will all pan out. He’s the guy I’ve been sharing rated R cell pics w/and so I know that it wouldn’t take much to get us “there”. I also know that his life is in Ft. Worth, and mine is down here, to say nothing of the fact that we’ve got history together. I think I can sum up the entire relationship in a sentence I wrote to him after our last “break-up” approximately 8 years ago: “You don’t have a problem getting me, you just have a problem keeping me around.” And so knowing all of this, it stands to reason that I will try my very best to keep this all on the level. Ohhh…did I mention I haven’t had sex since Dec ’05? This is going to be rough….

Pretty Nerdy

My weekend was spent as the one preceding it. Saturday I cleaned my tiny apartment, then I woke up early Sunday morning, packed my cooler, slathered myself in sunscreen using spf 30- way shy of my normal, sun shielding 60 spf (Hear that Adlai? I even use sunscreen when I WANT to get brown!), and went to tan by the pool before all the hungover kids found their way to outdoor activities. I am not a good tanner. I just cannot keep my mind empty enough to enjoy sitting outside doing nothing. This is where the beer and Sunday paper come in handy. Now I'm not sure that I'll be asked to produce my greencard anytime soon, but my skin is taking on a nice golden hue. Hooray for my forefathers and their melanin-producing genes!

And this past week I got some great news: Elizabeth is one of my favorite movies of ALL TIME (no seriously, I even blogged about it back in the day) and I found out that a sequel has been made. And the BEST part is that most all the original characters are back on board, including the director! And the VERY BEST part is that it was so unexpected; unlike LOTR, or Harry Potter, where you have to wait and wait to see something, this is just like "BOOM-it's already been made!" I can hardly wait!!!

Last night was the first installment of another well anticipated history lesson, Ken Burns "The War". He was the guy who set all documentaries on their ear back in 1990 with his series "The Civil War". For many, documentaries were simply things one was made to watch when a teacher got too burned out to face the drudgery of developing an actual lesson plan, but "The Civil War" was made in a style which was entertaining and touching. His style moved documentaries in a new direction, one meant to inform and entertain, which is why I so looked forward to the debut of his take on WWII last night. It means so much to me b/c my Papo was in that war, and it's fascinating to think of him going through all of those things before I ever even existed. It was a little dry, but I will admit to being on the tail end of my uhh..tanning buzz, which left me dozing off at odd intervals. I'm giving it another shot tonight.

In other news, I, along w/my friend Juan, are Renfest-bound for the first weekend in November. I can only remember going once in my life, waaaaay back when I was but a wee lass. My mom and dad drove my brother and myself out to Magnolia back when I was probably in 4th grade. I remember being repulsed by the turkey legs, scared shitless by the gross, green, zitty giant on stilts, and for some reason this was the first trip where I can remember getting carsick. I remember wanting to get my hair braided and also wanting to buy a treat I saw many others partook of: half an orange filled w/some kind of orange icee. My folks probably had a hard enough time scraping up money to get us out there and into the joint, so buying anything once we were there was just out of the question. But THIS TIME! I'm getting my hair braided, and I may even buy one of those goofy halo-looking things that fairy sprites wear. HUMPH! (Not really, Juan- I just want some mead and I'll be a happy camper)

The fact that a movie for eggheads, a new documentary, and a festival for medieval nerds are the things I am presently most excited about is not lost on me. And no, I don't remember the exact point in time when I realized I was becoming the title character from the movie "40-year-old Virgin", and though it does instill me with a small amount of fear, I would like to point out that I am not, in fact, a virgin. Plus, that all ended well so perhaps I do have a shot at getting some action someday.

I also got a bonus this morning when I realized today was a day I had chosen a few weeks back as a vacation day! Since there are 30+ people in our office, we have to ask for our vacation days at the beginning of each semester. This is frustrating when things come up and you don't have the time off you'd like, but it's awesome when you wake up, REALLY don't feel like going to work, and then you notice that you're off today! And what have I done w/my time today? NOTHING! Sunday, Part Deux! And now if you'll excuse me, I've got some napping to attend to.

Lemons Into Lemonade

I realize that lamenting about the fact that we’re already being inundated with the commercialism of the season is trite, so this year I’ve decided to turn the situation into a positive. (All compliments for the Pollyanna-like gesture can be directed at Lexapro) I want to use this as an opportunity to make a time-table or sorts, and make some short terms goals for all those great “someday” ideas that never quite make it past my inebriated lips and into reality. So, for your viewing pleasure, my to do list for the holiday months (encompassing Oct-MLK day).

1) I will make stellar Halloween plans and follow through with them accordingly.
2) I will go to either the Renaissance Festival OR Wurstfest, potentially both.
3) I will plan a trip to the day spa w/Adlai in December during both of our winter breaks (tentatively planning for Monday, Dec. 17th, but this is negotiable)
4) I will meet w/my friends Jana and Jiffy, and possibly their respective husbands, during the Christmas break. I am hopeful that it will be in Padre but my parents are still nucking futs, so while I’m not holding my breath about the beach, meeting somewhere is in the works.
5) I will NOT spend New Years Eve w/my poodle. Again.

That is all.

Sorry Saturday

I stand corrected; your weekend can get even more shitty despite the fact that EMS and/or Poe-poes are not involved. For starters, I ended up slicing the bottom of my foot Friday evening, which did not warrant a hospital trip, but made my evening none the brighter. In the morning I took things slow (processing 6 cans of natty light tends to make my body a bit lethargic), and though I awoke at 7am in order to take out my dog, I found myself awoken by my phone at 10am. It was Mom, and instead of gleeful puppydog tales, she relayed that she and Dad got into a fight (OH WAIT! I almost forgot that adults get into heated discussions, not fights) which found her driving back to Padre at 11pm the previous night. She also told me that my aunt's ailing dog, who had an enlarged heart and many breathing problems, had passed away in my Grandmother's arms b/c at the time of her dog's slow, internal asphyxiation, my aunt was out shopping and had asked my grandmother to sit with her moribund pet. She also relayed that my grandmother was very upset from having to witness it.

This was my Saturday morning wake-up call! Whatever happened to mom waking me up on Saturdays to cheerfully announce "The Smurfs are on!"? So I'm at my grandma's house by noon, and at my home by 1. I talked to pool guy and had gotten my water all checked out. It turns out that there's no chlorine in the pool (like at all) so this may not be a case of algae, but one of sheer neglect. He also tells me that while I am welcome at any time, my renter has rubbed him the wrong way on more than one occasion (being either dismissive or accusatory), and that if her demeanor continues he will have to ask her to take her patronage elsewhere. Many of you might say "So what? He said you're cool, right?" To that I will relay: SEGUIN IS SMALL! There are two pool stores, and so if she goes to the other one and pisses them off too, it's going to be the "1603 River St. pool" that's going to suffer, not her. I assure him that I will let her know the old golden rule/you-can-catch-more-ants-with-honey goes much farther, no matter what town she's in.

Off I go to save my pool. Well, not before I drop $290 on the work that was done on the pool in early August, and also purchasing more algaecide and shock. I did this will the full intent of telling them these costs were coming out of their deposits, or could be repaid to me directly, whichever they preferred. Damn good thing I waiting on sending out THOSE e-mails…it turns out that the water has no chemicals in it b/c the skimmer/filter area is clogged; the chemicals are being placed in the right area, but they're not being introduced to the OTHER 16,000 gallons of water that constitute my pool.

So I call Steve (pool guy) and tell him this with a heavy heart, knowing that he's about to close for the day in the next 30 minutes. Not only is he extraordinarily busy, but I am extraordinarily broke, so we're both losers in this one. He then says I should be able to unclog it myself by purchasing a device called a "Drain King", which is just a bladder (rubber ballooney-type thing) on one end, and a place to screw in a water hose on the other end. Using this correctly will build up water pressure causing the leaves/detritus to be safely blown from the pipe thereby purging the obstruction. OR, if you're me (which I am) it causes a tiny explosion in your filter when the water pressure is too great and the twelve dollar part you just purchased is blown to smithereens.

During this whole process I'm having to mentally deal with the following issues:
1) It isn't my renter's fault, unless she's been stuffing cement down this tube, which I could never prove. She was trying to clean up the pool but didn't know that a pipe was clogged. Like the septic tank, regardless of the why or how, I'm responsible for the "what now?"

2) If I can't clear this pipe, trying to put even more chemicals into the pool isn't going to help anything. This means another potential trip to Seguin, which isn't awful, but I want to be committed to living in San Marcos. I don't want to be in Seguin every week, or even every month. I have get used to being on my own, and by that I mean REALLY on my own.

3) I have to pee. While I have the key to my own house, and no one else is there, I just don't feel right going in there when my renters aren't there. It's not my space anymore, and I would feel awful if I knew that someone had been in my apt. when I wasn't there. But then do I go in a bush? Which is more respectful: peeing in their yard or peeing in their bathroom?

I decided to go back to Home Depot, purchase another bladder to fix the pool, drain my own bladder, and give this thing one more shot. From what Steve had told me, there are two points at which you can attempt to clear the line, and if one doesn't work you can try the other. I was on "the other" but it was so named b/c he wasn't exactly sure which pipe on the far end I would need to flush (there were two pipes per point). I figured I had chosen the wrong one pipe and would feel really stupid if I had gotten everything else right, but stuck it in the wrong pipe. Well, not just stupid, it was going to cost me a hell of a lot more than twelve bucks times two to get Steve out there to fix it.

I tried again but chose the pipe to the right. This time I stay away from the affair, but once again crank up the water pressure as Steve, and the instructions, state. Kablooey number two stung exponentially. Now I KNOW I can't fix it, I'm out $25, and the exposure to the hyper-chlorinated water trapped in the skimmer had not only ruined my t-shirt, since the sleeve was now bleached white, it also bleached the hairs on my left arm, then caused them all to break off. Though at first it felt like a perk, after having looked at my right arm I remembered: I HATE ASYMMETRY! Add a bottle of Nair to the cost of the latest home repair disaster.

I still don't know whether or not this is simply a matter of a blocked pipe or something more sinister, but what I do know is that my looking forward to this weekend was about as fruitless as hiring a Chippendale's dancer to perform for Ellen Degeneres. Please, please, oh please Sunday! Save my weekend!

Prissy Hissy

My grandma has always told me that I have nice hands, and that I should enjoy them before my veins get ropy and liverspots appear. To this day, anytime I see my grandma, she grabs my hands. So, painting my nails has been a priority that transcends aesthetics, but means more to me, almost like a responsibility to enjoy what others no longer have. That being said, I have a peeve about women who have these chipped, have-eaten nail polish jobs that they don’t take care of. I’m a purist; they are either all painted or all unpainted, as the occasion may call for. But I’m also a workin woman; I don’t have a lot of time to donate to this endeavor. This has lead to me spending an extraordinary amount of money on high-end nail products, such as OPI. It’s good polish that you can only find in certain boutiques (Sally’s isn’t one of them). What I like is that you can spend an hour painting your nails on Sunday and not have to worry about chips and such for at least the next 5 days. And though I’m reticent to admit this, there are two main problems w/this polish:

1.) Freakin’ expensive. At $7.00 per bottle, you buy 4 colors and you’re in about thirty dollars. Being that I’m a woman with ever-changing tastes, I’ve got to have ‘round about 30-40 colors in my collection, which brings my tab up b/w $250-$300, and that’s w/me restraining myself
2.) OPI has a very stylized bottle, and through marketing or tradition, the biggest problem w/these bottles is that they often get stuck shut. You can try warm water and coating the outside w/remover, but my favored method is to sternly throw them on a hard surface (ground) in order to wedge those puppies open

When I first got to my apt, the time came to paint my nails, and the requisite “I can’t get this open!” issue reared its ugly head. Not wanting to piss of the downstairs neighbors, I went out to the CEMENT balcony in order to lightly, but firmly, throw the bottle down in order to open and apply it to my nude, awaiting nails. But something went wrong. A brand new set of physical laws presented themselves, and I must have used a little too much vigor and ended up just smashing that bottle to hell, which is something that doesn’t upset me due to no longer having that color, just that there are now shards of glass littering the floor which is encased in my screened-in balcony.

And TONIGHT, after a really shitty day at work, I STEP on a shard that I was not able to see when I originally cleaned up the debacle, causing me to slice open the ball of my foot and trapping me outside (I didn’t want to get blood on the carpet so I had to wait until it stopped.). Of course, I come from a long line of proficient clotters, so it only took about 3 minutes of pressure, but still- I need to rethink this whole time and money investment, which is why I present...

To Paint:

Or Not to Paint:

Feel free to opine.

Forlorn Friday

1) At 4:20 my mom calls me to tell me I'm bumped; my Dad decided he wanted to go w/my mom to Houston, so my plans for some time w/my mom, Rootie's time w/my Grandma, AND meeting a standard poodle (I want one SO BAD!) are all shot to shit.

2) 4:50 I asked my former supervisor if he could do me a favor and talk to a student for me. He said I should ask my immediate supervisor, la inefectuel herself, to do what I needed done. Basically, he said no. (I do not like that word.)

3) By 4:59 I had devised a plan to slay my diet, get a pizza, and drink copious amounts of cheap beer all evening long. I drive to Gatti's where the vato behind the counter pronounces my name "Nigh-toe". I look at him and say "Meskin, you need to be ashamed of yourself! My name is Nieto!" and his response? "You're meskin too?"

And NOW I've got to figure out how an old lady like me is going to get some sun soon. My people are forgetting me. To add salt to the wound, Gilbert, Gatti's Cashier Extraordinaire (raises pit bulls, but doesn't fight them, has a tattoo on his neck-his last name in old E letters-and a homemade tattoo on his hand that read "crips4e"), asked me if I'm from here, if I had kids, if I was single, and if I have a myspace page, all within the 20 minutes I was waiting for my order. I cannot imagine him to be more than 20 years old, and here he's asking granny out. Sighhhhh….. (NO! I DIDN'T!)

I'm off to drink as much Natty Light as will not make me ill tomorrow, and I'm still on the fence on wrecking my diet (the pizza is in the oven, haven't touched it yet, and it is prime to be frozen). All I know, that barring any hospital visits or mandated conversations with the authorities, my weekend is all up from here!

A September to Remember

Last night was dinner party the second w/my new friend Ed. The first one was a success, except for the fact that two of the three male dinner guests are contractors who have to wake up at the asscrack of dawn, thus their dinner hour typically begins anywhere from 6pm to 6:30pm. I don't have a problem with eating dinner that early, but I do have a problem with making dinner to meet that time expectation, especially since I get off work at 5pm, go take out Rootimer, then have to drive to Ed's house in order to start cooking. By those margins all I'd be able to crank out would be beanie weenies (as if!). Our first dinner party was lasagna, and we had them waiting until 8:30 to eat, which just about killed everyone so this time we had a deadline of 6:45, so Ed and I each made certain parts at our respective places, and just warmed them up. I, with the help of my Dad, made scalloped potatoes au gratin and a neiman marcus cake, and Ed took care of the roasted chicken and broccoli. Now THAT, my friends, is not a dinner party it is potluck, and I told Ed so; we're going to have to figure something else out for next time. We all had a really good time, though I was a bit embarrassed to attach my name to such a bland chicken recipe. Let me clarify that it was not the chef-Ed did a great job-but the recipe just sucked. I had been sent all of these really nice recipe cards, but I never really had a chance to use them b/c I was in Seguin all by myselfee. Now that I'm in a place where I've met people to cook with/for, I find out those recipe cards are for sucks (one of the instructions called for Stove Top Stuffing!!!!!) and all of my awesome cookware and dazzling kitchen gadgets are 30 miles away and in storage. In any event, I am looking forward to next time even though cooking Wednesday night caused me to be late for work Thursday morning, and drinking wine and gabbing until 11:30 caused me to be late this morning as well. Ah well...as far as problems go, this one isn't a bad one to have.

I have been experiencing some turbulence in landlady land. Apparently the pool has turned green and my tenants are looking to me to fix it. Uhhh...no.... I spent well over $400 getting that pool back in shape AND purchasing chlorine and shock for them to use on the pool, which I felt was a pretty nice thing to do. I showed them how to shock the pool and told them when to shock it. Four weeks later the water is green (algae is the likely culprit), and they are both looking at me like starving baby birds. BROKE, starving baby birds. When I told her how much the bucket of shock costs ($70.00) and that she needed to get some more, her immediate response was "We can't afford that!" Well, maybe you guys should have thought of that before you rented my home and insisted I spend the money to clear up the pool. Besides, 70 bucks for two people is not such a big deal, while my shelling out ANOTHER $70 for a pool I don't USE seems like a much larger injustice. I need to put my foot down and have them realize these things are their responsibility. She's claiming she did everything I told her to do and it still turned green (my fault, right?) and I'm thinking "Since you're not colorblind, at the first hint that it was turning green you should have googled that shit b/c the pool is YOUR problem for the length of lease." And lastly, I'm hoping she's just being miserly on principle b/c I paid for the electricity and water this month (since it was for what I used in July), so they had BETTER have enough wiggle room for an extra $35 per-person expense b/c they haven't even really begun to pay all their bills yet. See...this is NOTHING like I thought it would be! Damn that Mr. Furley for making it all seem so glamorous! :-)

I have previously relayed my newly found dabbling into the seedy underworld of salacious texting/e-mailing, but after sobering up and really looking at the things I shared, I'm getting nervous that my ex and I had a really good (better than average) sex life, and that maybe I won't be able to garner that kind of passion again. It makes sense b/c while we were very good friends, we drove each other freakin' batty, and subsequently took it out on each other in the bedroom. I dunno...it's silly, and I surely won't subject you all to my boudoir repertoire for your actual opinions, but typing it all out like that just made me see that our "regular" nights were still pretty damn sexy. Or maybe I'm just so starved for affection it all just seems so much greater. I guess I'd need to first even just get a lousy piece of action before I start worrying about all this crap. Ha ha!

Tomorrow my mom and I are going to Houston on a poodle rescue mission! No really! Mom and Dad are ready to get another dog, after Rootie’s sister inexplicably vanished in the wee hours of the morning back in April, and they’ve decided that instead of paying for a dog, they should rescue one that needs a good home. Wednesday I visited the vet to get a letter of recommendation for my folks who needed to prove they are responsible pet owners. I didn’t know this, but apparently even when one is trying to rescue a homeless dog, you have to show up w/some credentials. I think it’s a good idea; wouldn’t want the rescue places to become one of the largest providers of mystery meat at the local buffets. I am a tad nervous though because I know it’s going to be very very difficult for me to leave all of those little ones behind. Yes, we’re hopefully going to find two of them and give them ridiculously pampered little lives with scads of affection and love, but I know that my mind will be focused on all those littles that we can’t take with us. And please PLEASE may I have the strength not to get a new brother or sister for Rootie. Amen.

Destination: Journey

Surprise, surprise, Juan is the SAME dumb jerk I remember 10 years ago. My secret? I SUSPECTED it all along and didn’t get emotionally vested! It kinda sucks that all I’m really searching for is some guy who surprises the hell out of me by NOT being an asshole, so being right about this is hardly a something to gloat over, but coming away unscathed is a small triumph for stoopid girls everywhere. So what happened to THIS foray into dancing with a latin lothario?

Juan and I used to talk two, three times a week for hours at a time, but all of that ended when I sent him risqué pics about three weeks ago. But did that upset me? Surprisingly, no. At this point I’ve got a lot more prospects in my pocket, not in the dating arena, but in life in general. He’s caring for his 21-year-old brother with M.R. in Ft. Worth, while also having to deal with his deadbeat older brothers and their claims on his mother’s house. Do I want to be a part of that noise? HEY-ALL NO! So I figured, you can’t get exposed to herpes through e-mail (yet), so why not? We then moved on (I’d hate to use the word “progress”) to dirty e-mails, all in the dark hours of the night, all when we’re both inebriated (well, at least for my part I can vouch for my own drunken state), and now I’ve lost the respect that used to commandeer his time.

He used to boast to me “You know, you’re the only person whose calls I always pick up.” But that was just a part of the game. He was grooming me for such a long time, and it took damn near a year, but he thinks he can have me. The fucked up part is that now he doesn’t want me, because that whole notion of responsibility just scares the shit out of him. Whenever I get down about the decisions I’ve made, I can always tell myself: “Well, you’re not as fucked in the head as Juan, so you’ve got a tiny chance of coupling up before you die.” While that is a pretty shitty thing about someone else I will defend my position with this gem: I'm almost 32 and more single than ever- whatever comforts me!

This whole thing is affirming in one way because it also feels like I’m growing up. Well, I’d hardly say that sending pics of my goodies is a form of maturation, but not being so wrapped up in the notion that I’m giving away pieces of myself when I fool around with someone. Ha ha! Though I will admit that when he sent me a picture of his johnson, I was fully sober and on my way to work. As soon as the picture came into focus, my jaw DROPPED open, I threw the phone into the passengers seat and screamed! Ha ha! It was about 3 blocks later when I realized my mouth was STILL OPEN! I don't know if it's a Catholic good girl thing, or if all women are always 13-yr-olds inside, but I STILL can't look at the pic for more than 5 seconds w/out feeling extremely naughty and putting it away before I get caught. BY WHOM?! I dunno...but it just feels like I should be caught! :-) While I’d say that’s a pretty good indication that I’m not quite ready to act out the fantasies in the flesh, it is cool that I’m not losing my shit over some controlling asshole who is afraid to fall in love. If anyone is going to be afraid to fall in love, that role will be played by yours truly. :-)

Speaking of sex acts, DJ stood me up! If you don’t recall, he’s the guy I lost my virginity to as a sophomore in college. He found me on myspace and on a few occasions has asked me to send dirty pics of myself to his cell phone. (Has the whole fucking world gone mad? Damn that Tila Tequila!) The only reason I chose to have DJ pop my cherry to begin with was because he was quite the slut, and I was somehow convinced that losing my virginity to a man I could not respect, therefore could not possibly love, would strip sex of all power, and then I could mug down with guys and not give a shit, just like many of my cold sore-spreading Aggie buds. Little did I know that interlude would lead to a summer of lovesickness, and countless hours of worry over the fact that in that one night I probably swapped fluids with well over 20 people. BLLLEEEECHH! (I dunno, I guess I really didn’t think through that whole VD angle when I was searching for viable de-flowering options)

Anyway, correspondence had pretty much ground to a halt; we had talked more than once about my feelings very uncomfortable with a married man coming onto me, which of course I was not receptive to. As fearful as I am of being cheated on, it would be pretty fucked up of me to be responsive, so I mostly just talked to him about how he could potentially spice up his own sex life w/his wife. Of course he pulled out the old "She just won't try/it's all her fault/poor me" bs. It had been more than 4 months since our last correspondence, so when he said he was coming to town for drinks, I had my reservations but could hardly say “I REALLY don’t feel like being an ice queen for a night in order to keep hold of my chastity.” So I said sure and figured I couldn’t be the only person in the area who wanted his attention, and that he’d be off to party with his “boys” by 11pm. Whether that be a euphemism for his wrinkly winkie, or his actual O.D. Phi brothers was going to be the only mystery of the evening. But he asked me to meet him, then never called again. I should be very relieved because in this way I was also able to remove him from my friends list. Unlike Juan, who can at least stop thinking about his nads long enough to get a decent conversation going, DJ had all of the trappings of a situation that was going to end badly for me. Stepping away from that is a good thing.

And to round out my latest romantic disappointments…well, that’s not fair at all. I’ve only met this guy once, and we had a pretty good time drinking Guinness and talking about music. I’m not sure that there’s enough chemistry there to sustain anything other than a drunken fuck, and since we all know that’s just not my style, I think I will be looking forward to lots of beer and lots of cold showers. Could be worse! I could be drinking Natural Light by myself in my efficiency apartment while the twentysomethings are partying all around me (like I’ve done the two weekends before.) But knowing that even my 20 minutes in HEB after work today had me exposed to approximately 300% more potentially viable friends/dates, as opposed to the same 20 minute grocery shopping in Seguin where I'm dodging leering meskins w/teardrop tattoos on their faces, shopping for WIC products, is something that makes me smile. While I am too hard on myself to think that I’m exactly where I need to be, I do know that I’m doing a sight better than I had been doing, and at the very least, the scenery on this journey just got better.

Now THAS What I'm Talkin' 'Bout Right There!

Beery, Bleary, and Weary

It only took 10 hours but it looks like my hangover is finally abating. It's a good thing that I rested up last weekend, because I needed all my energy to make it through this one. I started early this week w/lots 'o Guinness Thursday night w/my new partner in crime, Mikey. My favorite bar in San Marcos just wasn't the same when I didn't have anyone to share it with, so I'm happy that I can once again drink copious amounts of beer, listen to some decent tunes, and talk about shit that doesn't really matter with great company.

Friday night I had anticipated getting together with an old contact from A&M, but after the initial invite, I didn't hear from him again. It's all for best because he had crossed some lines before. There are some things lower than a married man with kids hitting on you, but most of those will get you arrested, as well should be the case. I ended up laying low at my pad in San Marcos, drinking a whole mess of natty light, and engaging in adult e-mails until the wee hours of the morning. Hey, I'm still staying true to my "no more dirty pics" policy! Baby steps!

And last night I went to Austin to join Katie for a house gathering for game night (house party always makes me think of that Kid n' Play movie). Maybe next time we'll actually get around to playing games, but I had a great time anyway. There was one strange thing about the night though. Most everyone had gone home but I was going to stay in Austin w/Katie. Katie goes to bed, but there are still about 5 people there and they're all guys that I don't know. For some weird reason two things immediately happened: I began to make popcorn and any other snack I could get my hands on (though it was not my food I was serving) b/c I knew they were hungry, and then after that for some really strange reason I got….scared. I mean, not for my safety or anything, but I suddenly felt really drunk and inadequate and I didn't want to make an ass out of myself in front of all those guys I didn't know. I'm chalking it up to the amount of ganja in the air because as everyone knows, beer does the exact OPPOSITE to me; I don't give a shit what people think of me, and no matter how stupid I sound, when I'm boozy I'll talk to anyone. Oh well, it was probably just a blip. Or I got slipped some wacky tabacky; that stuff makes me paranoid.

OK, I guess I've kept up the suspense long enough….the mad bomber in my apartment complex DID get dressed down with a sign, but it was not of my making. Mid week I saw that a piece of paper was tucked beneath both heaping piles of doo with the following message: "Hey Asshole. PICK UP YOUR SHIT!" Not as pithy as MY idea, but it either resonated with the culprit or a do-gooding peace maker who just decided to get it out of the way. I vote for the latter; anyone who let their dog shit right outside someone's door and not pick up it up on their own accord probably doesn't care that some stranger called him/her an asshole. I do regret not getting a picture of it though, because I've always wanted to contribute to this site: www.passiveaggressivenotes.com. My lease isn't up until May, so I'm sure I'll get my chance.

Weekend Warrior

I've got the hoo-doo. In the past hour I have:

• Managed to dump a box of toothpicks into my stir-fry
• Spilled almost the entire bottle of newly purchased liquid antibiotics
• Knocked over a jug of cold water

Mayhaps the karma that is currently attacking was actually forged from my actions this weekend. What other farcical, soft core, beer fueled scene did I stumble through? In a complete departure from the past 3 weeks, I stayed home to clean and organize. ("Ohhh, you rebel you!" No wait, there's more)The logical progression of this act sometimes has me further organizing bits of my life. This weekend I chose to write a 7 page document outlining a few of the more disturbing executive decisions made in my office during my 5 year tenure. Of course w/accompanying documentation and e-mails, what kind of squealing, rat-fink stoolie do you take me for? I won't further delve into the how I got to this point, or what I expect from it, mostly b/c I'm bored as shit from working on it all weekend, but I will convey that while it does make me, at times, feel like a very small person, I know that it needs to be done. As the senior counselor, and with my paper-writing background, I owe it to myself and everyone else to try and change things. And if I mysteriously get run into a ditch by an unidentified driver, TELL MY STORY!

Besides writing what basically amounted to a tattle-tail term paper, I also took the occasion to reading all but the final 3 chapters of Huckleberry Finn, drank about 18 Natty Lights, smoked 1.5 cigarettes, took Rootie out at least a dozen times (her little legs make it impossible for her to traverse the 2 flights of stairs down to the lawns), picked up about 5 of her turds, and COMPLETELY blew my low carb diet by ingesting pad tai noodles on Friday AND Sunday (Thanks alot ERIC! Tai Tai = Yum Yum = Fat Ass). I further extended my long weekend because today, the Tuesday after Labor Day, was the first opening the vet had for Rootie's yearly dental cleaning. Despite the fact that I only feed her dry, crunchy, high-end dogfood ,along with a high-end food product specifically designed to keep a canine's canines healthy, they extracted 5 rotten teeth from her mouth today (hence the liquid antibiotics). I basically feel like a dog-abusing piece of shit who must surely pack her dog's mouth with cotton candy gauze before leaving for work each morning. I've resolved to feed her the soft, wet food she loves (if that 'spensive shit isn't helping, let her enjoy mushed up horse livers for the rest of her blessed little days), because I was misinformed when I read dry dog food will keep a dog's teeth strong and healthy. I've also taken to babying her (yes, it actually was possible to wrench it up a notch) due to my own self induced guilt, and contemplating purchasing a water pick for My Little. That and leash-training her, but let's not share ALL evidence that I've never been knocked up largely due to divine intervention today, shall we?

I also think I may have upset my friend Juan when I "snapped and told" of our cell phone exchanges a couple of weeks ago. Perhaps I am digging in too deep, but I wonder if he felt that what transpired was an indication that we were moving onto a more romantic kind of relationship. There needn't be much palavering on the topic as the only word that comes to my mind is: no. Before you think me a cold hard bitch, read this: Givin' Love to My Myspace Homies (The end of the second paragraph is where you'd want to start.)
Ok, all done now? All I can say is fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

And I will take my leave with one last development born of my self imposed reorientation this weekend. I was in the process of sorting my mail, which is currently extra annoying as I forwarded my mail from Seguin, am now getting mail in San Marcos, and am ALSO getting mail on behalf of the person who used to live here. (I really REALLY hope the local paper subscription runs out soon; there's only so much about Crystal City one could or should know.) Having recently changed insurance companies, I am also getting alot of mail that comes along with that, not only from other insurance companies who see me as sweet meat, but also the new company sending all of the wonderful reasons why I made a good choice (Yeah, ya got me already, I wrote the check. Stop hassling me!) But like any other God-fearing American, I felt the need to open all 5 pieces of correspondence they have sent to me in the past 2 weeks. And it's a good thing I did, for I just stumbled upon a five hundred dollar check made out to yours truly. Perhaps I am just making this more difficult than it needs to be, but it feels very irresponsible to cash a check when I have no idea where the money is coming from, or what cashing this check means to me. I mean, what if that's the check for my mortgage company? Or what if it's one of those tricksey checks where you cashing it constitutes a binding agreement where you are consenting to buy their bogus credit protection plan to the tune of $60 per month, forever and in perpetuity until you die?

I know I should give them a call as soon as I get in to work tomorrow just to make sure it's OK for me to spend, but last month's septic tank adventures caused me to get a short term loan to the tune of $400, and I had to borrow another $500 from my Mom. If that weren't bad enough, I still owe $200 in Seguin electricity for the month of July, and an additional $50 for the July water bill. I figure it'll all even out on its own sometime in November, but this $500 would really help things along. Or I could use it to enjoy the BEST HALLOWEEN EVER. Sighhh...

Best. Clip. Ever.